


Another  Holmes Family Christmas in Sussex

by GoodShipSherlollipop



Series: Journey [14]
Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: 12 Days of Sherlolly, F/M, Family fun, John has re-married, Married Sherlock Holmes/Molly Hooper, Mycroft has a son, Parentlock, Post TFP, Sherlock and Molly still have time for a little romance, Sherlock has to process some issues
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-02
Updated: 2019-01-15
Packaged: 2019-10-02 23:22:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 15,242
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17273096
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GoodShipSherlollipop/pseuds/GoodShipSherlollipop
Summary: When Sherlock, Molly and their baby are at the Holmes family home for their second family Christmas post Sherrinford, John gives Sherlock some welcome news. But when Mycroft arrives with some explosive news of his own, Sherlock is beyond shocked at the turn of events. Can Molly help him sort through his conflicting emotions? (Continuation of my "Journey" Sherlolly timeline.)





	1. A Shock for Mycroft

**Author's Note:**

> As I mentioned in my summary, this is a "real-time" Christmas story that continues the ongoing journey of my Sherlock and Molly, from "A Journey to Love, Faith and Marriage," as well as other people in their lives. I am aware that a lot of readers do not read on FanFiction.Net, which is why I have decided to post this here. Not sure if anyone is even interested in reading my work here anymore, so I guess I will see if I get any response to it make my decision from there about whether to continue it or not.

Mycroft set the letter down gently on the desk in his study, closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose. This was something he had never expected to happen, and his thoughts were in disarray. First came shock and disbelief, followed by amazement, and finally, he felt a touch of sadness.

To receive this kind of news only two weeks before Christmas was either a blessing or a curse, because it would forevermore have an impact on his life and his future, and possibly, the lives of his family as well.

He had a son. The DNA results he had just put down confirmed that he was the biological father of Mark Reynolds, to a probability of 99.99%.

He had a _son_.

Mycroft recalled the letter that had arrived two weeks earlier unexpectedly from a team of solicitors in Liverpool. As far as he knew, he had no association with anything that was going on in that northern area, so he was intrigued by the letter, and immediately went to his study to open it.

The contents of the letter had shocked Mycroft in a way nothing in his life had ever done before. It began with:

_Dear Mr Holmes. It is with sincere regret that we must inform you of the premature passing of Miss Diana Reynolds._

The letter went on to explain that she had succumbed to leukemia after a two year battle, and that she had a surviving son, named Mark, who was twenty years of age. According to the stipulations of her will, she had asked that the father of her son be contacted in the event of her death.

With the understanding that the paternity of her son would most certainly be called into question, Miss Diana Reynolds had also requested that the solicitors arrange for a DNA test to be done, in the hopes that Mr. Mycroft Holmes would acknowledge paternity and take on the role of father to their son, and provide for him.

As much as Mycroft would have liked to dismiss the letter as nothing more than a joke, he couldn't do so, because he still remembered Diana and their extremely short, one-night liaison.

It had been over twenty-one years since he had seen her. She had temporarily been assigned to work as his assistant following the shocking aftermath of Princess Diana's death in late August of 1997.

Mycroft had been an up-and-coming employee of the British government, working his way up slowly but surely to the upper echelons. He had been selected from a number of candidates by Prime Minister, Tony Blair, to compile the list of guests for Princess Diana's funeral, which meant a considerable amount of research and decision-making, a task that required more than the services of one person. It was the first time Mycroft would be dealing with the royal family and he was quite proud of the honour he had been afforded.

He was in his late twenties, and Diana was only twenty-three. They had immediately developed a rapport as they pored through the immense list of people who could potentially be invited to the funeral, discussing each one in turn.

She had been a welcome distraction from the demands of his private life. Sherlock had developed a serious drug habit (although his sibling insisted he was a user, not an addict), and he had found himself in the position of having to take care of his brother on several occasions, when Sherlock had found himself drawn into using drugs to escape the boredom of his life. He was a loner, emotionally stunted and Mycroft alone, knowing why that was so, was protective of his brother and felt a responsibility towards him, to ensure he didn't take things too far with his addiction. If it weren't for his brilliance, Sherlock would have failed his postgraduate degree in Forensic Medical Sciences, thanks to his on-off "flirtation" with drugs. It had been a small miracle that he had been clean at the time of his final exams, and had passed them with flying colours. God only knew when he had found the time to study for them, though. At least Sherlock hadn't indulged in sexual escapades in addition to his attraction to drugs. He had eschewed any kind of emotional or romantic attachments, shrinking from the physical touch of anyone outside of close family members, and even that was reluctantly endured.

Of course, that time was well past, and Sherlock's last, almost fatal dabble into drugs had occurred during the Culverton Smith case approximately twenty months earlier. He had shown no signs of any predisposition to addiction since he had declared his love for Molly at Sherrinford. Those events, precipitated by Eurus Holmes, the sister Sherlock had erased from his memory, had served to restore Sherlock's true nature, which was a rather emotional one as a young boy. Eurus, in her odd, psychotic manner, had tried to "help" Sherlock regain his memories and his true nature, and she had succeeded, spectacularly so. It was as if the young boy Sherlock's emotional nature had been restored to its factory settings, although, to Mycroft's knowledge, Sherlock still had gaps in his memory from his childhood that were rather like scars that prevented the access of some of those memories.

Sherlock and Molly had been married for well over a year now, with no signs of reducing their rather unseemly public displays of affection, and a seven month old daughter to boot, (one whom Mycroft was actually rather fond of, but he certainly wasn't going to give Sherlock the satisfaction of knowing he felt a rather excessive amount of sentiment when it came to that adorable baby with the Holmes eyes).

As for Diana though, their liaison consisted of just one night, after they had decided to celebrate finishing the guest list for the funeral. Mycrof had turned in the list, had it approved in short order, and had been informed that he would shortly be receiving a promotion, with more responsibility regarding the royals, after doing such a fine job with this assignment. A few celebratory drinks later with his young assistant, and one thing had led to another and, let's just say a good time was had by both willing participants.

Bringing his thoughts back to the present Mycroft sighed. He and Diana had not used protection (most unwise, but Mycroft was not usually so careless, and never drank to excess - this was the one occasion on which he had done so). The following day, Diana had left London, her temporary assignment with him completed, and he had never heard from her again. He had not sought her out either, their one night together had been all about a simple desire for mutual physical fulfilllment, not sentiment.

He recalled a conversation they had had, when she had been talking about what a coincidence it was that she shared a name with the deceased princess, and how sorry she felt for Princess Diana's two young sons. Mycroft had stated quite categorically that he had no time for children. They required too much maintenance. Now, he supposed that was why Diana had never contacted him to inform him of her pregnancy.

His thoughts were disturbed by the touch of a soft hand on his shoulder, and he opened his eyes and turned his head.

His wife of four months, Elizabeth, formerly Lady Elizabeth Smallwood, was looking at him with a raised eyebrow.

"You've had news then?" she inquired. "When you removed yourself immediately to the study after bringing in the post, I assumed a letter had come in with the results."

Over the past two weeks, Elizabeth had been his rock. She had found him in the study, two weeks earlier, still holding the letter in his hands, and with a shocked expression on his face.

Without a word, Mycroft had thrust the letter at her and she had read it. She had been completely supportive. It wasn't like she didn't know he had had love affairs before her. He was forty-eight, after all. Not many people could have attained the age of of forty as a virgin, the way Sherlock had done. Mycroft didn't duly express sentiment, but he still had _needs_ , like any other red-blooded male. "So, I'm assuming by your reaction that this letter is authentic, and that you quite possibly have a son you never knew existed?" she had asked mildly.

Mycroft ran a hand through through his thinning hair. "It appears so."

When Mycroft had been undecided on what to do with the information, it was Elizabeth who took charge. She insisted that they fly to Liverpool immediately so he could take the DNA test and find out once and for all if he was the father. The son, who had been told of his father's paternity as instructed in the Will, had already submitted a sample of his own DNA for testing.

Mycroft, with Elizabeth by his side, had taken the test, a simple cheek swab, and returned to London to await the test results, which he was told could take up to two weeks.

Now, Mycroft nodded at his wife soberly. "According to the DNA test results, I am indeed the lad's father. The news is somewhat unsettling, to say the least." His shoulders slumped suddenly. He just did not know how to process this, or how to proceed.

Elizabeth looked at him sympathetically and asked, "So, what now? Are you going to try and set up a meeting with him through the solicitors?" Her hand was still on his shoulder, and she squeezed it gently.

Mycroft pressed his lips together. "I suppose that would be prudent. I've had no financial responsibility for the lad for twenty years, and I feel obligated to do my part, now that his mother is deceased." He blew out a long breath. "My one consolation is that at least I didn't have to endure his young years. I'm not equipped to deal with children. If I had been saddled with a son at that age, I doubt I would ever have risen to my current position in the government."

"I would have to agree. Michael was the reason my own career stalled for the first twelve years of his life." Her mouth curved into a soft smile, as she added, "Not that he wasn't worth staying home for, but then, it's different for a mother." She looked at him sympathetically. "Would you like me to make the arrangements for a meeting with your son?"

Mycroft pursed his lips. "I should not ask such a thing of you, Elizabeth."

Elizabeth's hand came up to stroke the side of his cheek gently. "You didn't ask, dear. I'm offering."

He placed his own hand over hers and gave her a grateful smile. "Thank you. That would be most appreciated. I'm finding this rather difficult to reconcile at the moment."

Mycroft's wife was not in her senior position for nothing. She was very efficient in handling sensitive issues, and arrangements were quickly made for a meeting one week later in the neutral offices of the solicitors in question. Upon Mycroft's request, she accompanied him to Liverpool, as they flew in his private jet.

Mycroft felt extremely nervous as he arrived at the solicitors' office on the day, and he reached for Elizabeth's hand, something he rarely did, not being overly sentimental. But on this occasion he felt the need for some moral support. Upon entering the solicitors' office, he was greeted at the door by two men, obviously the executors of Diana's Will, and caught sight of a young man sitting on a chair further in the office.

The solicitors introduced themselves as Jack Woodruff, the senior partner, and Robert Steinbrenner, junior partner.

Mr. Woodruff turned to the young man, who stood. "Mark, this is Mr. Mycroft Holmes. Mr. Holmes, meet Mark Reynolds." Mycroft noted that the man had deliberately not referred to him as his son.

The young man stepped forward and looked Mycroft directly in the eye, and Mycroft could see they shared the same eyes, and height, for that matter.

The young man cleared his throat and extended his hand, somewhat awkwardly. "Pleased to meet you, er, Mr. Holmes."

Mycroft took the proffered hand and shook it briskly. "As it appears we have a familial connection, I feel at the very least you should refer to me as Mycroft. I would not feel comfortable having you refer to me as father. I have not, after all, been one to you."

The meeting went off rather well, actually, Mycroft reflected afterwards. Mark was, unsurprisingly, extremely intelligent. Interestingly, the lad was in his second year at the University of Liverpool, doing an International Politics and Policy BA (Hons) degree, and he was fluent in French, which of course was the international diplomatic language. Mark also had showed a proficiency for several foreign languages, and Mycroft couldn't help feeling these traits were directly inherited from him.

When Mycroft had questioned him on his interest in politics, the young man had explained that it had always interested him, but also that his mother had mentioned that his father had been involved in politics in some way. She had refused to furnish him with any further information about the man, stating that, although she did not regret having her son, she was aware that the father was not interested in children. Mark had said this matter-of-factly, and Mycroft had been impressed that Diana had raised a young man who seemed to be very well-adjusted, despite the fact he had grown up without a father.

Diana had never married, contenting herself with her own work and in raising her son. When she had been diagnosed with leukemia two years earlier, she had fought valiantly to overcome it, not wanting her son to be left alone. As Mark related the tale, Mycroft saw for the first time, the hint of tears in his son's eyes.

Elizabeth had sat with them quietly, after Mycroft introduced her, and she had only ventured a question or two.

Mycroft had told Mark about his family. Mark had seemed quite excited at the thought of being related to the famous Sherlock Holmes, and he mentioned that he had seen that the detective had married the previous year.

When Mycroft had informed him that Sherlock and his wife had a seven-month-old daughter, Mark had appeared rather animated at the prospect of having a cousin. Diana had been an only child and both of her parents had died in a tragic car accident when Mark was a young lad, so he was truly alone.

It was this fact that led to Mycroft inviting him to meet the Holmes family for Christmas, and Mark had been happy to agree. Mycroft knew this was going to be a bombshell for the family, but better to get it out of the way sooner, rather than later, he figured.

They had parted soon afterwards, after Mycroft had informed the young man he would be in touch in arranging transportation for him for Christmas Day. In the meantime, Mycroft intended to set up a bank account to help support Mark. Mark had initially been doubtful, saying he had enough to live on with what his mother had left him, but Mycroft had insisted that he owed twenty years worth of child support payments, end it was the least he could do, so Mark had reluctantly accepted the generous offer.

After returning to London, Elizabeth and Mycroft discussed how to approach the subject of revealing that he had a son. They decided the best thing to do would be to introduce him at the family home when everyone was present. It would save the necessity of answering a multitude of questions more than once.

Mycroft had called his mother and said he would be bringing another guest for Christmas, and that he hoped it would not be an inconvenience.

Mrs. Holmes, who was aware that Elizabeth had a grown son, made a remark about Michael, and making up an extra bed for him for the night, (fortunately, the Holmes house had six bedrooms), and Mycroft did not disabuse her of the notion. He was aware that John and his wife, Kayla, would also be there for Christmas, having been invited by Sherlock, so Mycroft felt the addition of one extra person would not be an inconvenience, and he was correct in that assumption. If there was one thing everybody knew about Violet Holmes, she loved cooking, whether for special occasions or otherwise. She was one of those people who was on almost every committee at her local church, and was constantly baking for this sale or that as a fundraiser for the church.

Arrangements were made for Mark to be flown by Mycroft's private jet, directly to an airfield in Brighton which was closest to the Holmes family home. Mycroft himself would take his limo from London with Elizabeth, and would be at the airfield in time to collect the young man, so that they could arrive together.

Sherlock and Molly had opted to take a coach to Brighton. Trains did not run on Christmas Day, so their options were rather limited. They had cited it would be too difficult to transport Victoria in the limo, in case she got fussy and caused undue stress to Mycroft. He was rather relieved, actually. On the occasions when he was holding his niece and she became irritable, he would immediately return her to one of her parents. Now he would be dealing with picking up Mark as well from the airfield in Brighton, so things had definitely worked out for the best.

According to Sherlock, John and Kayla were driving down with Rosie, in his own car.

On Christmas Eve, Mycroft and Elizabeth spent the evening with her son, Michael, and his fiancée, Michelle. The young couple would be spending Christmas Day with her family, so things had worked out nicely there. They had even exchanged Christmas presents. Mycroft, of course, would not have thought of it, but Elizabeth enjoyed Christmas and everything that went along with it. She had been the one to choose gifts for everyone, even purchasing one at the last minute for Mark. The only gift Mycroft had purchased personally was an expensive pearl necklace, which he intended to give to his wife on Christmas Day.

On Christmas morning, they packed the limo with the bag of Christmas gifts, an overnight suitcase, as they had been invited to stay for the night, and off they went.

Even as they travelled, Mycroft thought how different this Christmas was going to be. Last year he had shared the limo with Sherlock and pregnant Molly, and the newlyweds had behaved rather inappropriately with their constant displays of affection in front of him, which he had tried to ignore. Last year he had also finally come to the realisation, thanks in part to his brother's transformation, that he loved lady Elizabeth Smallwood, whom he had been seeing for several months, and had even invited as his guest to Sherlock and Molly's wedding. This year he was bringing her to the family home as his wife, and introducing a long lost son. It was definitely going to be very interesting Christmas.

 


	2. Taking the Coach

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock and Molly make their preparations to head to the Holmes family residence with their daughter. Poor Sherlock gets a rude awakening when his daughter receives more attention than he does.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to those of you who took the time to comment, I will continue this story. If you are anxious for me to update it, be sure to let me know.

"Molly!" came Sherlock's voice from the front of the flat. "Are you coming? The taxi will be here any minute." His voice was a little impatient.

"I'll be right there." Molly hastily tucked the final wrapped gift into the big bag of presents and headed out of the bedroom quickly.

Sherlock was already standing at the door, changing bag slung over his shoulder, and Victoria already on his hip. The overnight bag stood at his feet. His forehead creased into a frown. "What took you so long?"

Molly put her free hand on her hip. "I told you I had to wrap that present. Remember how your mother told us a couple days ago that Mycroft was bringing another guest? She said it was Elizabeth's son, Michael. So I had to dash out last minute and go buy something for him."

Sherlock raised an eyebrow, while bouncing Victoria on his hip, and gesturing for Molly to precede him so he could grab the overnight bag and lock up the flat. "Why? You don't even know him."

Molly gave him an exasperated look as she passed him. "Because it would be _rude_ to give out gifts and not have one for him." She began walking down the stairs.

Sherlock followed right behind. "It's hardly our fault that Mycroft invited another guest at the last second, Molly," he pointed out quite reasonably.

She glanced back at him, then continued walking. "I know, but I just wouldn't feel right if we hadn't bought something. Besides, handkerchiefs monogrammed with the letter M are not a big deal. Anyway, I thought it would be cute, seeing as we bought those for Mycroft as well, Kind of a chance to show we are welcoming him, in a way, to the family, even if it is as a stepson for Mycroft."

She reached the bottom of the stairs and waited for Sherlock to join her. When he did, he kissed her lightly on the forehead. "My sweet, always thoughtful wife," he commented, with a smile at her, before opening the door to the street.

The taxi was indeed waiting for them, and they got in after stowing the overnight bag and Christmas presents in the boot, then Sherlock gave the driver instructions to the Victoria Coach station. _How ironic_ , Molly thought, _our baby sharing the same name as the coach station._

Sherlock sat quietly, holding Victoria on his lap, and Molly could tell he was brooding. Even the way their daughter was reaching out to grab at her daddy's curls, in the way Rosie also liked to do, was not enough to distract him. He seemed far away.

"Sherlock?" Molly asked tentatively, putting a hand on his arm and trying to rouse him from his reverie.

It was a full thirty seconds before he turned his head towards her. "Did you say something, love?" he asked, somewhat apologetically.

Molly ventured a half smile. She was used to his mind palace trips by now. "Just your name. I was trying to get your attention. What have you been thinking about?"

"Ouch," he complained, grabbing at the lock of hair which Victoria had managed to grab hold of and was trying to put in her mouth. "Not in your mouth, sweet pea," he told her sternly, and her little lips began to tremble, until he stroked her downy thatch of brown hair and kissed her forehead. "Sit nicely on Daddy's lap, so I can talk to Mummy," he told her in a more gentle tone, and surprisingly, she complied, settling her head against his chest.

Molly waited expectantly for him to return his attention to her. He blinked, as if to try and remember what she had asked him, then answered her question. "I was thinking how different it will be this year. Last year it was just us and Mycroft with Mummy and Daddy. This year it will be a whole houseful. All those extra bedrooms will certainly be put to good use."

"It will be strange not being in the same bedroom, although I understand why," Molly commented. "Your bedroom would be a little small to accommodate the cot for Victoria."

Sherlock gave her a rather seductive glance. "It's rather fortuitous that the bedroom we will be using is in another part of the house from the rest of the family. More _privacy_." He winked at her, and she blushed. Mind you, the fact that Sherlock's old bedroom was next door to Mycroft's had not made any difference to Sherlock the previous year when they had spent a most enjoyable night in his bed _and in the shower the next morning too_ , she thought, somewhat nostalgically. There was no guarantee that Victoria would stay asleep long enough to allow them the luxury of enjoying private time together anyway. She had a habit of waking up at the most inconvenient of times.

Molly smiled and rested her head against Sherlock's shoulder, raising an affectionate hand to her baby's cheek. She was so pleased that Victoria's eyes remained blue, and, if anything, seemed to be changing slightly to the changeable blue-green ones of her father. She was really looking forward to Christmas. It would be fun having John and Kayla there as well, and this time it was Kayla who was pregnant, rather than herself.

Molly knew that Rosie would be delighted to see her little "cousin" too. She herself was now Auntie Molly and Sherlock was Uncle Sherlock to the little girl. It had long ago been decided that John and Sherlock, being as close as brothers anyway, should, as a result, be afforded the honorary title by any children they might have.

Upon arrival at the coach station, they settled into their seats for the two hour long journey. It was a shame the trains weren't running, because the train would have been significantly faster, but it couldn't be helped, and really, two hours on the coach was preferable to ninety minutes in a car with Mycroft looking resentful the whole time. If there was one thing Molly knew for sure about her brother-in-law, it was that he was not comfortable in dealing with fussy infants, and there was no guarantee that Victoria would behave like a model child throughout the journey.

With the coach setting off at eight in the morning, it was due to arrive in Brighton at quarter past ten.

It was about halfway into the journey that Victoria began to fuss, having napped for an hour. Sherlock had been patiently holding her the entire time, and he handed her over to Molly, knowing that he couldn't provide the sustenance she required. While they did have baby formula along as well, it would not have been practical to make up a bottle in the coach, and breast-feeding was still the easiest way to take care of Victoria when she was hungry and they weren't in a place where you could not offer baby food or formula easily.

Afterwards, Victoria was content, and Molly gave her a teething ring to chew on, which kept her occupied for some time. At seven and a half months old, she had four teeth on the bottom and had been known to accidentally bite Molly during breast-feeding. Fortunately, she seemed to understand when her mother would yelp with pain, and then suckle properly.

By the time they arrived in Brighton, though, Molly was definitely ready to stretch her legs for a few minutes, as she waited for Sherlock to arrange a taxi for them.

This was procured in short order, and the last leg of the journey only took fifteen minutes.

Victoria was just beginning to protest her confinement, when Molly caught sight of the grand old, red exterior country home. It really was rather magnificent and bespoke of the Holmes family's wealth, not that she cared at all about that.

Sherlock had texted his mother of their imminent arrival, and as soon as they were out of the taxi, Sherlock took up the overnight case and presents, while Molly had charge of the changing bag and the baby. Mrs. Holmes opened the front door, hurrying up the path to greet them, despite the chilly weather. Molly had to smile at the look of pique that crossed Sherlock's face, when his mother brushed past him and went immediately to take Victoria out of Molly's arms, saying, "And how's my sweet grand-baby? I hope the journey wasn't too much for you."

"Merry Christmas to you as well, Mummy," muttered Sherlock as they walked the short distance to the front door. Molly hid a smile. She could tell Sherlock was feeling a little under-appreciated. He was used to being the centre of attention, but now that position had been usurped by his daughter. Despite Sherlock's outward demeanour of finding his mother's usual affection too much, Molly knew he secretly enjoyed the attention.

Molly opened the front door for him, as she was now childless, standing aside as he stepped inside with their bags, followed by his mother and Victoria, before Molly entered herself and set down the changing bag.

Sherlock dropped his bags and hung his coat and scarf on the the coat rack beside the door, then helped Molly off with her own jacket.

Still cooing distractedly at her granddaughter, and taking off Victoria's snowsuit jacket, Violet Holmes looked briefly at Sherlock and gestured towards the rear of the house. "You can take your overnight bag upstairs to the spare room, dear. The cot is already set up for Victoria as well. We even bought a baby monitor in case she needs a nap during the day."

Sherlock merely grunted, picking up the overnight bag again and heading in the direction his mother had indicated. Molly watched him go, furrowing her brow. Was he – _stomping_?

She turned her attention back to her mother-in-law. "Do you need help with anything? I mean, that's the reason we came early, so I could help you get things ready for the big Christmas dinner."

Violet Holmes smiled. "I think everything is in order for now. After lunch is when things will get busy," she responded. "My goodness, how Victoria has grown just in the past month! I must take her in to show her grandpa." She kissed her granddaughter on the cheek, and the little girl let out a gurgle of laughter.

"Oh, where is he?" inquired Molly curiously, looking around . She was rather surprised he had not also been on hand to greet them.

Mrs. Holmes pursed her lips and said confidingly, "He's taking a nap in the armchair in the small sitting room. He wore himself out bringing in wood for the fires earlier. I told him one of the boys could bring more wood in when they got here, but he insisted. He keeps forgetting he isn't as young as he used to be." She shook her head in exasperation.

Molly nodded sympathetically at that, then asked, "Where should I put the bag with the Christmas presents?" The previous year they had exchanged gifts in the small sitting room by the Christmas tree, but this year there would be a lot more people. She suspected the tradition of each person opening one gift while the others watched, would not be feasible with such a group this time either.

She was therefore not surprised by her mother-in-law's response. "You can take the bag over there, near the fireplace. I thought we would open presents together as soon as everyone has arrived. Mycroft will be last, he expects to be here at two o'clock."

"Sounds good, thanks," Molly responded, picking up the bag of Christmas presents. Then she addressed her mother-in-law once again. "I should really change Victoria as well. I'm quite surprised she hasn't dirtied her nappy yet, but I'm sure it's wet."

As if sensing her mother was talking about her, Victoria extended her arms towards Molly. "Hold on, sweet pea, Mummy just has to put these presents over there and then I'll change your nappy," Molly told her.

As she carried the bag next to the fireplace, Molly wondered briefly why Sherlock had not come back after taking their overnight bag upstairs. She deposited the bag, then returned to her mother-in-law, who had walked into the kitchen and was pointing out various kitchen items to the little girl.

Violet Holmes reluctantly returned the baby to Molly so she could change her nappy, saying, "Now, mind you give her right back as soon as you're done, dear. I need to spoil my granddaughter a little, seeing as I have not seen her in over a month."

Molly's lips twitched upwards. Violet Holmes was certainly making the most of being a grandmother, and she supposed it wasn't surprising, seeing as it had taken such a long time for her to become one.

Molly changed Victoria's nappy and returned her to the care of her grandmother. Fortunately, the baby did not seem hungry anymore, she was more fascinated by the new surroundings than anything else and was obviously enjoying being held by Grandma.

Violet Holmes seemed to be of the same mindset. "Molly, why don't you go upstairs and rest for a bit before lunch? I know how tiresome it can be to be on a coach for hours. It is a pity trains don't run on Christmas Day, they are so much faster."

Molly hesitated. The baby might be happy now, but she was probably going to be hungry soon.

As if anticipating this, the older woman added, "If Victoria gets hungry, I can just give her a bottle. I also have bananas that I can mash for her if she wants some solid food." She indicated the brand new high chair in the kitchen. "Her grandpa bought this especially, and we need to make use of it. I'll call you when it's time for lunch. It's only going to be sandwiches."

"Well, if you're sure-" Molly answered slowly, and Mrs. Holmes gave her a stern look.

"Of course I am. I want a little quality time with my granddaughter, and you need a little time to yourself. Believe me, I know how draining it can be to have a new baby in the house. Apparently Sherlock has already decided to take a nap, seeing as he never returned, so you had best join him." She made a shoo-ing motion with her free hand, and Molly could have sworn she winked.

Defeated by her mother-in-law's logic, Molly Kissed her daughter on the cheek and left the kitchen. She made a quick pitstop in the toilet and then headed upstairs to the spare bedroom, from which Sherlock had not returned.

Having not seen the bedroom before, Molly was quite startled by its size when she reached the top of the stairs. It was significantly bigger than Sherlock's bedroom, and even with a queen-sized bed and a cot next to it, the room was quite enormous.

Once Molly had overcome her astonishment at the size of the room, she noticed that Sherlock had kicked off his shoes and was laying on the bed with his hands behind his head and eyes closed. There was a definite downward tilt to the curves of his full lips.

She perched on the edge of the bed next to him, reached over to brush at the curls on his forehead and asked, "Why are you still up here? I thought you'd be back down as soon as you dropped the bag off."

His lips just tightened and he didn't answer. By now she knew that was a sign he was in one of his sulky moods. He had a tendency to act this way when he was feeling particularly neglected, and it had happened several times since Victoria was born because Molly just could not give him her undivided attention all the time. Unfortunately, babies had a tendency to require attention at the most inconvenient of times, and they wouldn't stop crying until their needs were met.

Seeking to pull Sherlock out of his sulk, Molly leaned over and pressed her lips against his, then said, "Tell me what's wrong." She was pretty sure she knew what was wrong, but Sherlock needed to express it so that she could help him get over it.

She squeaked a little when he grabbed her around the waist and pulled her to his other side so that she was laying next to him. "You know very well what's wrong, Molly," he told her, looking deeply into her eyes.

Molly thought about the previous evening. They had gone to church for the Christmas Eve service. It had been lovely, and they had lit candles during the singing of Silent Night at the end. John and Kayla were there with Rosie as usual, and Rosie had very much enjoyed seeing all the candles. Victoria had slept through the service, supremely unaware of the significance of the birth of the Saviour.

After the service, Sherlock and Molly had headed over to Molly's mother's place to spend some time with her and exchange gifts. Mrs. Hooper had been invited to Sussex as well, but had declined, declaring that Mrs. Holmes had enough guests to deal with, without adding another one.

Because of this, Molly had felt she and Sherlock should spend a little extra time with her mother, because Victoria would get to spend the whole of Christmas with the Holmes grandparents.

As soon as they had arrived home, Mrs. Hudson had popped out of her flat and insisted on also giving them Christmas gifts, offering holiday eggnog - a non-alcoholic version, especially for Molly as she stated, and spending a little time with Victoria. The elderly landlady was heading over to her sister's place for Christmas Day.

By the time Molly and Sherlock had returned to their flat with Victoria, it was after eleven o'clock, and Molly still had presents to wrap, as well as feed a fussy baby. She had told Sherlock to go to bed without her, and he had reluctantly complied. By the time Molly had settled Victoria upstairs in her cot, and almost finished wrapping the presents, save the one for Mycroft's stepson, she was extremely weary, and decided wrapping the last present could wait until morning. She had climbed into bed with Sherlock, who had woken and made an attempt to kiss her and get her in the mood for some lovemaking, but Molly had simply been too tired to muster any enthusiasm, and he had given up, turning his back on her.

Now, Molly realised Sherlock was feeling neglected not only by his mother, but by her as well. "I'm sorry about last night, sweetheart. I knew we had to be up early this morning, and I was just so tired. I'll make it up to you tonight, I promise." Then she added, with a wry smile, "as long as Victoria cooperates."

He reached a hand out to stroke her cheek. "I'm sorry too, love. If I had helped you wrap the presents, you would have been in bed earlier, but you know I'm rubbish at that sort of thing." He bent forward to press his lips against hers this time, and she responded, winding her arms around his neck to prolong it a little.

When their lips parted, Sherlock said, "Anyway, I'm not really cross with _you_ , it's Mummy who is the problem." He huffed out a breath. "Ever since Victoria came along, I feel like a second-class citizen. It's like she doesn't even notice me anymore, and it's all about the baby." He pursed his lips.

"Maybe you won't be so cross with your mother when you hear what she just told me," Molly ventured, peeking at him from beneath her lashes. Perhaps they didn't need to wait until tonight after all.

"And what's that?" he asked, raising an eyebrow.

"She said I should go upstairs and rest until lunchtime, and that she would take care of Victoria. I don't think that she was trying to suggest anything other than resting but..." her voice drifted off.

Sherlock's eyes sparkled then, and he reached to caress her back beneath her blouse and festive Christmas jumper. "Are you thinking what I'm thinking?"

She smirked, reaching for his buttons. "Merry Christmas, sweetheart."

Sherlock needed no further invitation, and he proceeded to kiss her breathless before making quick work of removing their clothing. Time was short, but not so short that they didn't thoroughly enjoy themselves, and it was a very much more contented Sherlock who walked down the stairs hand-in-hand with his wife half an hour later when they were called for lunch.

Half an hour after that, there was a knock at the door. John, Kayla and Rosie had arrived.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> At least Sherlock and Molly got a little bit of alone time. Poor Sherlock was feeling just a bit neglected. If you are a parent, have you noticed that once you have children, they get all the attention from your own parents?
> 
> Any English readers will already have been aware that trains don't run on Christmas Day, but I'm glad I checked that for myself. I do try to keep my facts as accurate as possible.
> 
> The layout of this house is the factual one used in His Last Vow. If you want to find out where I discovered this, ask me. 
> 
> Next chapter will be a John POV.
> 
> Continued comments will make me more inclined to post here in future, so if you like my interpretation of Sherlock and Molly, keep them coming!


	3. Reflections on Past Events

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John is excited to share his good news with Sherlock, news that will return things to the way they used to be. 
> 
> Mycroft's arrival and big announcement drives Sherlock into a tailspin.

John breathed a sigh of relief as he navigated his way through Brighton and towards the Holmes country home he had visited two years earlier. Rosie had behaved very well on the car ride, listening to kids songs on repeat almost the entire way. It had been a little tedious for John and his wife Kayla, but at least Rosie had enjoyed it, humming along with her favourite tunes.

Kayla, being six months pregnant, had required two toilet stops along the way. Their unborn son was definitely making his presence felt, and John knew that Kayla was looking forward to the end of the journey as well, and spending some time with her good friend Molly.

Rosie was looking forward to seeing her "cousin" as well. "Towia" as she referred to Victoria with her almost two-year-old lisp, was a lot more fun now that she was a few months old and able to grasp toys when Rosie handed them to her.

John himself was looking forward to speaking with Sherlock. He had some very important news to relate to his friend.

John found it hard to believe that two years ago he had been at the Holmes house with Mary, expecting his first child, and now he was with somebody new who was just as wonderful, expecting his second child, and a son this time.

So much had happened since Mary's death. He still regretted the way he had blamed Sherlock for it, that had led to his friend almost killing himself with drugs. Thankfully, that was all in the past now.

One thing John would always be grateful to Mary for, was her insistence that they buy life insurance policies. While on their honeymoon, Mary had said to John in no uncertain terms that as soon as they returned to London, they had to buy life insurance, because they had a baby on the way and needed to make sure she was provided for in case anything happened to either of them. John had not really understood her insistence, but, being a dutiful husband, he had gone along with it. Of course, in hindsight, he understood now that Mary had always been concerned that her past might come back to haunt her.

After Mary's death, and the insurance investigation determined that her death was an accident, John had used a large sum of the £250,000 death benefit to buy a partnership in a doctor's practice. John had wanted some stability for his daughter, and he needed a regular job in order to provide that. Of course, it had meant he had been unable to work with Sherlock as often on solving cases.

Recent developments however had set things in motion to change that. Only two months earlier, Mycroft Holmes had informed John that he had procured the assets that belonged to Mary in her former life as an assassin. It had taken a lot of work, Mycroft had assured him, but he had persisted, working his way through mountains of red tape to prove Mary had a husband who was entitled to those assets.

When John had inquired as to why Mycroft had gone to so much trouble for him, the man had drawn John's attention to a conversation that had taken place during Sherlock's stag night the previous year. Thanks to Sherlock, John had confirmed that he had been the one to shoot the cabbie at the end of their first case together. Sherlock himself had admitted that he would probably have gambled with his life and taken one of the pills the cabbie offered him.

"I am repaying a long overdue debt," Mycroft then informed John, as he indicated the papers John had to sign in order to receive the liquidated assets from the estate of his late wife.

As a result of this quite sizable influx of money, John made the decision to sell his part of the doctor's practice, and only a week ago, the sale had been completed. This was the news John wanted to relate to Sherlock. He would now be able to accompany his friend whenever a new case came along. It would be like old times - Sherlock Holmes and John Watson.

John and Kayla had also decided that she would quit her nursery school job to devote her attention to being a full-time mother to their son and her step-daughter when the time drew nearer for her to give birth. So the Watson household was in quite a state of transition at the moment.

To John, it seemed as though he had been showered with blessings ever since he had met Kayla on the day she had been helping Molly with her move to Baker Street a year and a half earlier. Even as Sherlock had transformed with Molly's influence into becoming a man of Christian values and principles, Kayla's gentle influence had guided John along the same path. While John's changes had been more subtle than the huge ones that had occurred in Sherlock, he knew he was a different man than the one he had been before as well.

John turned into the driveway beside the elegant old country house and parked. He assisted Kayla to alight, then unbuckled his daughter from her carseat.

Rosie went immediately to Kayla and took her hand, while John picked up their bags, and the three of them walked to the front door.

Their knock was answered by Mrs. Holmes, who gave each of them a peck on the cheek and welcomed them. After jackets were taken off, she led Kayla and Rosie to the kitchen, while Sherlock, who head followed his mother to the door, helped John hang up their outerwear.

"Merry Christmas, mate," John said to his friend, taking the bag of presents to where he could see other presents waiting. "How was your coach ride?"

Sherlock shrugged. "Uneventful. Longer than I would've liked, but it beats putting up with Mycroft scowling at me the whole time for subjecting him to the antics of my daughter." His lips quirked as he added, "Merry Christmas to you, too."

John chuckled. "I totally understand. Mycroft is definitely of the opinion that children should be seen and not heard."

Sherlock led John upstairs to the second floor into the room he would be using for the night.

"Oh," exclaimed John, "I need to get the travel cot for Rosie out of the boot."

After doing so, and peeking into the kitchen, where the women seemed to be happily gathered and in conversation with one another, while Rosie was making faces at Victoria and entertaining her, John sat in an armchair near the fire, and Sherlock seated himself in one across from him. He looked around. "Where is your dad?"

Sherlock grinned. "I've barely seen him. He took a sandwich for lunch and then headed back to the other sitting room. I think he is enjoying the peace and quiet while he has the chance."

"Well, while I have you alone, this seems as good a time as any for me to tell you something," confided John, and Sherlock raised an inquiring eyebrow.

"That sounds rather ominous," his friend remarked.

John's lips curved upwards. "Not at all. It's good news, as a matter of fact."

He proceeded to tell Sherlock about what Mycroft had done for him, and how he had sold his share of the doctor's practice so that he would have more time to work on cases with Sherlock when needed.

John was pleased to see the smile that spread on Sherlock's face, growing wider as he related his news.

At the end of it, Sherlock slapped a hand on his knee and said, "That is the _best_ news, John. It will be good to have you around again on a constant basis. We have had far too few adventures since becoming husbands and fathers." Then he added quickly, as if to reassure John that he was not complaining, "Of course, being a husband and father is very fulfilling, but there's something about chasing down criminals that gives me great satisfaction."

John smirked. "In that case, I guess we had better go see Lestrade when we return to London and ask him to throw a few investigations our way."

Sherlock's eyes lit up and he rested his elbows on his knees, steepling his fingers. "Excellent idea. There are always cold cases at the very least to investigate." Then his brow furrowed and he pursed his lips, sitting back in his chair once again. "Perhaps we had better wait until after the new year, though. Molly would not be happy with me if I went out on investigations while she has taken time off work between Christmas and the new year to spend it with me."

John had to chuckle at that. No matter how much his friend enjoyed solving crimes, he knew that Sherlock's first priority these days would always be his family, even as he felt the same way. "After the new year then," he agreed. The way Sherlock approached his crime solving these days was completely different to the way it happened when they first met, as Sherlock had related to John several months earlier. In those days, Sherlock had used his own system of gauging crimes by excitement and danger level, preferring those which generated the highest degree of both. These days, John knew that Sherlock and Molly discussed which cases he would take, giving careful thought to his safety. Sherlock had even told John that they prayed about them as well, which always gave Molly especially a measure of comfort when there was inherent danger.

Before John experienced his own journey to the Christian faith, he had teased Sherlock about being "the praying detective." Surprisingly, Sherlock had not taken offence, but had simply stated that one day he would understand. And now of course, John did know that, and the two friends were closer than they had ever been.

The men sat together in comfortable silence for a few minutes, and then John could detect the smell of baking wafting into the room.

Sherlock jumped up immediately. "Ginger nuts!" he exclaimed, beaming at John, and they headed to the kitchen to find fresh biscuits cooling on wire racks on the stove. The women had apparently been busy as well, because potatoes had been scrubbed and other various things had been prepared for the evening meal. Mrs. Holmes was just putting a partially cooked turkey back in the oven.

Sherlock immediately went to the ginger nuts to take one, and his mother swatted at his hand with a tea towel. "You'll burn your fingers," she scolded, and he gave her a petulant look.

Mr. Holmes, apparently having been lured by the smell of baking as well, also entered the kitchen and it was quite a crowded gathering, as people begin chatting amiably.

Victoria was nowhere to be seen, and John spotted the video baby monitor on the kitchen table, where he could make out the sleeping form of the infant. John had no idea how he had missed seeing Victoria removed from the kitchen, but then again, his armchair had faced away from the kitchen entrance. Rosie informed her father excitedly that she had been allowed to lick the spoon from the biscuit mixture. John was vaguely aware of Molly and Kayla discussing Kayla's pregnancy and the various ailments that came with it. Molly mentioned something about having had swollen feet from about the seventh month mark onward. It was so much fun being part of this extended family, John thought with a smile at his daughter.

The ginger nuts had finally cooled enough to be deemed ready to be eaten, and a plate of them was being passed around when the knock on the front door alerted everyone to the fact that Mycroft had finally arrived.

Mrs. Holmes went immediately to the door to let her son in, as the little crowd exited the kitchen into the large sitting room into which the front door opened. John was surprised to see not only Mycroft's new wife Elizabeth, but also a young man whom he did not recognise.

He looked around and saw surprised looks on everyone's faces. He noticed in particular the way Sherlock's eyes had narrowed in suspicion at the sight of the newcomer. The strange young man was very tall, as tall as Mycroft in fact. John was aware that Elizabeth had a son from her previous marriage to the late Lord Smallwood, but he was pretty sure that Sherlock had mentioned the man was over thirty, and this young man was closer to twenty, possibly even still a teenager.

Mrs. Holmes was the first one to overcome her astonishment and speak. "Mycroft, I thought you were bringing Elizabeth's son as your guest. Who is this young man?"

The young man in question shifted uncomfortably on his feet, and Mycroft cleared his throat. _How odd, he seems rather nervous,_ thought John in surprise, _not at all his usual self_.

Rosie tugged on her father's hand, obviously a little anxious at seeing the new arrivals, particularly the stranger, and John lifted her into his arms and perched her on his hip. He slid a glance over at Sherlock who was still observing everything with narrowed eyes, even as Molly stood next to him also looking somewhat confused.

And then the last thing John would have expected to come out of Mycroft's mouth, astounded him. "I have some rather important news to share with everyone," Mycroft began, as he darted a glance at the young man, before turning his gaze on the quiet audience in front of him. "Recent events have come to light, and I have been forced to come to terms with some things from my past. I would like to introduce you all to Mark, my-" he paused again, and it seemed rather an effort for him to get the next word out, "son."

And all hell broke loose, Violet Holmes leading the way in demanding an explanation. While John tried to deal with his own shock at this unexpected announcement, he glanced over at Sherlock, and noticed the way his friend's posture had stiffened. He too, seemed to be in shock and John saw him brushing away Molly's hand on his arm.

As Mycroft began to make explanations, Sherlock abruptly broke into the monologue with a, "I need to take a walk," and he pushed past the new arrivals, pulling open the front door and closing it sharply behind himself, not even bothering to put on his coat. John had seen the pinched expression on his friend's face and he wondered why this news should be so difficult for Sherlock to hear.

Violet Holmes, apparently used to Sherlock's antics of the past, merely shrugged and asked Mycroft to continue with his explanation, walking closer to the young man to look at him closely, much to the youth's embarrassment.

John wondered whether he should go after Sherlock, but he realised it wasn't necessary, as he heard Molly quietly ask Kayla to keep an eye on the baby monitor in case Victoria should awaken, and that she had to go after Sherlock.

Molly, obviously much more sensible than her husband, retrieved her jacket and put it on, and also picked up Sherlock's coat. Then she too opened the front door and exited, after casting an apologetic glance at Mycroft.

Kayla came to stand beside John and whispered in his ear, "What was that all about?"

John shook his head. He had no answers, but he hoped Molly would be able to discover them. And then he listened as Mycroft talked about the woman with whom he had had a very brief liaison just after the death of Princess Diana in 1997, and the pregnancy she had never told him about. The young man had recently lost his mother and the truth had come to light, thanks to instructions in her Will that Mycroft be informed of the young man's paternity. John looked at the young man and he suddenly noticed the resemblance, the same height, the same eyes, the same brown hair colour. Even as he observed these things, he wondered again about Sherlock and why his reaction had been so extreme.

_Whatever it is_ , he thought confidently, _Molly will get to the bottom of it_.

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've always been curious about Mary's past as an assassin and wondered if she had money squirreled away from it, I imagine she would have been highly paid. In fact, I head canon that she owns the car/flat you see in Season 3 and 4. So, I decided, why not create a way to allow John the freedom to continue solving cases with Sherlock again on a more regular basis? They are a team, after all. So what do you think? Did I present a plausible premise to return the men to their crime-solving partnership?
> 
> So, the bombshell has been dropped. How do you think Sherlock will deal with it? Next chapter will be from his POV as he tries to process the news.
> 
> Please don't hesitate to venture your opinions, I love hearing people's thoughts, and whether they feel I am creating the story in a believable way. Guest comments are also welcome. Feel free to offer a differing opinion too, if we all thought alike we'd be robots LOL.
> 
> If you do enjoy the way I write, Kudos are pleasant, but comments are what really make a difference to whether I want to continue posting here more often. I still struggle with the feeling that my version of Sherlock and Molly isn't really of value on this site, at least not in the Sherlolly fandom, so i think I'll stick to fanfiction.net for the most part, where I have a small group of active supporters. There are enough stories here to entertain people without the absence of mine being noticed, but I will finish this story so I don't leave people hanging. There are enough abandoned works out there.


	4. Making Sense of Things

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock tries to process the unexected situation he had been confronted with. Molly's wise words help him to deal with things, and he makes an effort to adjust to the situation in a way that makes Molly very proud.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A note for the majority of readers who rarely or do not ever leave any type of feedback, please consider this. What takes you maybe 5 to 10 minutes to read, takes many hours of effort by fan fiction writers who have to not only write the story, but also go back and edit/revise/proofread multiple times in order to make it fit for publication. (Being legally blind, you can pretty much add an extra 50% at least to the time it takes for me to publish a chapter).When you leave a comment, in essence, you are giving a "tip" to the author, to show your appreciation for a job well done. Those "tips" give us the same job satisfaction as you get in the work place when you are thanked, or at school when a teacher tells you how well you've done. It costs you nothing but a few moments of your time to type a few letters into that review box. Something to think about...  
> I know my words will sadly fall on mainly deaf ears, but I will try and educate people, regardless. Don't let your favourite writers abandon their stories due to lack of feedback!

_My son._

Sherlock heard the words as if they came through a fog. Mycroft had not even needed to say them before he realised the truth. Mark was very much like Mycroft at around the same age.

He didn't know why, but bile rose in his throat, and he felt as if he was suffocating and needed to leave. He had to get out of there.

As soon as Sherlock went out of the front door he had an intense desire for a cigarette. It was the first time he had had craved one in a very long time. He itched for the deep inhalation, the way a cigarette seemed to calm him when he was agitated.

Actually, the last cigarette he had had was right here outside, two years earlier, on that fateful Christmas Day when he had made that vast miscalculation about Magnussen. But now was not the time to think about those events from the past.

Sherlock wasn't even aware of the cold, as he stood for a moment, deciding where he should walk to. He had to think. He could see his own breath in the chill air, mimicking the smoke from the cigarette he craved. A few snowflakes were falling, beginning to stick to the ground, and Sherlock decided he needed to go somewhere under cover. There was a stable that had not been used for many years, but he still remembered the horses his family had owned when he was young, and the way he had gone there at times when he had wanted to be alone. The quiet nickering of the horses head always given him a sense of peace, and the smell of animals and hay had also been curiously calming. Of course, there were also times when he had ventured in there in order to have a secret smoke away from the house. His mother obviously knew and disapproved, but she never said anything.

The door to the stable was unlocked and Sherlock walked inside, closing it behind himself. It was marginally warmer in there than it had been outside, and he suddenly realised he wasn't wearing his coat and there were tiny snowflakes on his suit jacket, which he brushed off before he slid to the ground against the front wall of the old building. He could dimly see the dust, and the musty smell of hay still pervaded the stable. If you listened intently, you could almost hear the whickering sounds of long gone horses.

Sherlock sighed and leaned his elbows on his knees, putting his head in his hands. He had to process these feelings.

He felt anger, resentment, jealousy. But why?

He tried to enter his mind palace, but was distracted by the soft sound of the stable door opening, bringing with it the outside chill, before it was once again closed. A moment later he felt the touch of a gentle hand on his shoulder. It was his wife's, of course.

"Honey, you left without your coat, and I didn't want you to be cold."

He opened his eyes to see that she was holding it up for him. "How did you know I was in here?" he asked, standing and taking the coat, then slipping it on. He had to admit, it felt much better having his coat on, than sitting in the cold stable just wearing his suit.

Molly's lips quirked. "It doesn't take a master detective to see the indentation of footprints displacing the snowflakes on the ground." Then her expression became serious and she said, "I know you're trying to process something, so I will leave you in peace for now, if that's what you need." She turned as if to leave, but Sherlock reached for her hand and took it.

He expelled a breath, and saw the mist form in front of his face once again. "Stay, but only if you want to. It's pretty cold out here."

"I asked Kayla to keep an eye on the baby monitor in case Victoria wakes up, so I can stay with you, if you feel like talking this out with me. I'm here to listen." She stepped closer and reached her free hand beneath his still unbuttoned coat to slide her arm around his waist and press herself against him.

He felt the warmth of her body and was suddenly glad he was not alone. He needed her, to speak with _her_ , not his mind palace version of her. Molly understood him so well and she always knew the right things to say, to help him process things. Even his mind palace had recognised that fact when her image was the one which spoke to him first after he had been almost fatally shot by Mary. What had been an intangible presence then was a tangible one now that he counted on to be the voice of reason, his guide. He put his own arms around her and kissed the top of her head, then moved to sit down again on the floor, pulling her with him so she was cradled on his lap sideways.

"Help me, Molly," he entreated, linking the fingers of his left hand with her right. "I don't know why I'm feeling this way about hearing that Mycroft has a child of his own. I know I should be happy for him, that he will have the opportunity to be a father, but I'm not. I'm bloody jealous, Molly, and I don't understand why." He sighed heavily.

Molly's thumb stroked over the back of his hand as she responded. "I think I understand. You've always been in your brother's shadow, and from some of the things you have said to me, I've sensed that it has made you feel good to know that you have been able to outshine your brother in some way." She paused, obviously trying to think things through for herself. "I think you've been proud you have been able to give your parents something Mycroft never did, a grandchild." She turned her head to look up at him. "Perhaps you feel it has given you validation, a sense of worth, when you always felt Mycroft to be superior. Now you find out he has a son, and that has been stripped away from you."

Sherlock looked into her dark eyes in amazement. How was it that she always had a knack in understanding things before he did? She truly understood him better than he understood himself. Her words summed it up exactly. He had always felt inferior to his brother. All those "I'm the smart one" comments had left an indelible mark on him. Despite his outward success as a detective, he had felt a failure for many years as a son, especially during those dark days when he had been using drugs to escape the real world and to suppress his emotions. He had felt as if he was a disappointment to his parents, who had allowed Mycroft to take charge of him and had kept a hands-off approach themselves.

Mycroft was always the golden boy, the one who did things in a way that was above reproach. When Sherlock and Molly had become engaged, he finally had felt a sense of worth, of value to his parents. Victoria's birth had sealed that. _Sherlock_ was now the golden boy who had provided the long-awaited grandchild, even if now she seemed to be the focus of his parents' attention, especially his mother's, which was another sore point.

All of these thoughts ran through his mind in a matter of seconds. He kissed Molly's forehead. "You've hit the nail on the head, but what do I do about it? How do I get past these feelings?" He pressed his lips together, waiting for her response.

She gave him a little smile. "First of all, you pray about it. It's human nature to seek validation about things, to need to feel you are worthy. We all go through times where we feel we don't measure up to others." She disengaged their fingers end raised her hand to his cheek. That brings to mind a song I know by Sandy Patty, called _Fields of Mercy_. Some of the lyrics say, 'Lord, in you I am worthy, I am deserving, because you loved me and took me as I am.' God doesn't feel that you are inferior in any way, so you shouldn't either, sweetheart. People, even family, will sometimes let you down, but God never will."

Sherlock pondered her words for a moment, and he furrowed his brow. "I suppose you're telling me I shouldn't compare myself to others, right?"

"Right," his wife affirmed. "Try to be happy for your brother. He may now have a son, but he will never have the opportunity to hold his newborn in his arms." Her lips twitched as she added, "not that he would want to anyway, but I think you know what I mean."

Sherlock bent his head and pressed his lips against hers tenderly. "Thank you, sweetheart. I have been so blessed, and I shouldn't begrudge my brother receiving some blessings of his own." And his lips curved upwards as he thought of something. "I have a nephew, Molly, and our daughter has a cousin. How about that?"

Molly flashed him a grin, then stood, reaching her hands towards him in invitation. "This is turning out to be a most unexpected Christmas. Are you ready to go back in now? I think we have some presents to exchange."

Sherlock reached his own hands up and allowed her to help him stand. He encircled her with his arms briefly and kissed her, then they walked arm-in-arm back towards the house. The urge to smoke had left him and he felt decidedly better. He would make the effort to get to know his nephew, and to be happy for his brother. Silently he prayed, _Forgive me Lord for my selfishness. Give me an open heart to accept this new family member without resentment._ Peace settled over him, and he felt cleansed somehow.

He looked at Molly and said, with a twist to his lips, "Now that this Mycroft business is sorted out, how do I deal with my feelings of neglect over my mother loving my child more than me?" He wasn't really being serious, he just wanted a little more reassurance.

She shook her head fondly at him. "I guess you have to be a mother to understand. Babies are always going to be the focus of a grandmother's attentions. My mum and Mrs. Hudson are acting exactly the same way, in case you haven't noticed." Then she raised an eyebrow at him as they reached the front door. "You don't feel neglected by _me_ , do you?"

Sherlock's eyes crinkled at the corners and he smiled, as he recalled being very well taken care of just a short time earlier by his wife. Molly always made time for him, except on the rare occasion when Victoria's demands became too much. He had no complaints on that score. "Not at all, my love."

Sherlock held the door open for Molly, then entered himself. The first thing he noticed was that the dining chairs had been moved so that everyone would be able to sit together around the cozy warmth of the fireplace. His nephew, Mark, was sitting on one of the dining chairs, looking a little uncomfortable. All conversation had ceased upon their entrance, and Sherlock could tell that various eyes were turned upon himself and Molly.

Sherlock hung up his coat, took Molly's jacket, hanging it up for her as well, then walked to stand in front of the young man. He cleared his throat and extended his hand. "Welcome to the family."

The young man looked surprised, but held out his own hand, shaking Sherlock's with a firm grasp. "Thank you."

At that moment, a wail sounded from the baby monitor, and Sherlock looked around. The video monitor was on a side table next to an armchair, within easy viewing distance of everyone in the room. Sherlock could see Victoria stirring, and suddenly he knew what to do. He turned back to Mark and asked, "How would you like to meet your cousin?"

The youth's face lit up. "I've never had a cousin," he said in a tone of wonder, before adding, "I'd really like that."

The assembled family members gazed at Sherlock with varying expressions of astonishment on their faces, but he only noticed Molly's wide smile, as he led Mark to the stairs which would take them to the spare room and the now awake baby.

In the bedroom, Sherlock lifted Victoria out of the cot and rubbed her back. She wasn't grizzling too much as of yet, but he assumed it would not be long before she was ready to eat, and he looked at Mark, who was staring at the infant in fascination. "This is my daughter, Victoria. Would you like to hold her?"

Mark opened his mouth and closed it again, then swallowed. How odd, thought Sherlock, he looked remarkably like Mycroft when he was flustered about something but trying not to show it. He asked nervously, "Are you sure? I...I've never held a baby before." Despite his words, he reached out instinctively for her.

Sherlock had to suppress a smile. Mark was definitely not like his brother in that regard. "Then this can be your first time." He turned Victoria around so that she was facing Mark, and the young men took her gently from Sherlock.

"Hi," he said softly to the baby. "My name is Mark, and I'm your cousin."

Victoria gazed at the stranger for a few moments and then, obviously knowing she was in no danger because her father was nearby, she smiled, and the young man's face split into a grin as well.

At that moment, Sherlock realised the resentment and jealousy he had been feeling earlier had completely dissipated, including his own insecurities, and he was actually looking forward to getting to know this new member of the Holmes family.

Mark continued to hold Victoria as they headed back downstairs a couple minutes later, and she seemed content to sit on his lap as the exchange of presents began.

Sherlock went to sit beside Molly, who whispered to him, "What a lucky coincidence that the monogrammed hankies I bought for Mycroft's stepson will work for Mark as well, seeing as they have the same initial."

Sherlock turned his head to kiss her cheek. "Coincidence? I think not. Definitely a God thing."

Sherlock looked around at his family. Rosie was dozing on John's lap as Kayla sat beside him, hands resting gently on her swelling abdomen. His parents were beside the fireplace, sorting out the presents and handing them out, and Mycroft and Elizabeth were seated side-by-side on two of the dining chairs, close to where Mark sat with Victoria.

As people opened the presents and exclaimed over them, Sherlock reached to squeeze Molly's hand. He could smell the turkey and the other various cooking aromas of Christmas dinner, and his stomach began to growl with anticipation.

It was turning out to be a different Christmas than he had expected - first he had been delighted by John's news that they would have more time to work together on cases, and now he had a new family member to get to know.

After the present exchange was complete, Molly retrieved Victoria, who was just beginning to fuss, in order to feed her, while the other women stood and went to the kitchen in order to help with the dinner preparations.

Having missed the explanation about Mark, Sherlock listened with interest as his brother explained how things had come to pass. Mark explained about his mother and what he was studying in university, and Sherlock could see that the apple didn't fall far from the tree. The young man was certainly clever. With Mycroft's own prestigious (although highly classified) government position, the young man would undoubtedly have no trouble finding a job afterwards either.

As they talked, dinner preparations were completed, as utensils and crockery were placed on the dining table. The usual Christmas crackers were also put beside each place setting.

William Holmes went into the kitchen to carve the turkey as he had done the previous year, and soon dinner was ready and set on the table, and the family (and friends) sat together. Molly had returned with Victoria, who was in her high chair between Sherlock and Molly, while Rosie sat in a feeding seat John had brought along, between her father and Kayla.

The Holmes patriarch pronounced a short blessing upon the meal and the extended family was about to tuck in, when Violet Holmes said, "I think we should pull the Christmas crackers first."

Sherlock recalled the previous year when Molly had made special ones which had pink coloured ribbons in them to show the family, and himself, that they were having a baby girl. Those crackers had been in addition to the usual ones. This year there was only one set of Christmas crackers.

Everyone dutifully pulled the Christmas crackers and put on the silly crowns, just as they had done the previous year. Sherlock couldn't help smirking a little at Mycroft's expression, which was as sour as it had been last time when he had been forced to wear the crown. This time he not only had a pink one, he was also relegated to sitting on a folding chair, because the dining table only had eight chairs.

Mark, on the other hand, seemed delighted with everything. It was very obvious he had never had the opportunity before to share in a family gathering.

And finally, it was time to pass around the turkey and potatoes and all the other delicious Christmas goodies.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you liked the way Sherlock, with Molly's wise advice, was able to work his way through his issues. I hope too that you found the reason for his issues to be believable. I do think the new, improved Sherlock is quicker to get over his anger than he would have been in the old days. He is a mature family man now, after all! Did you like the way he made an effort with his new nephew?
> 
> If you are curious about the song Molly mentioned called _Fields of Mercy_ , you can listen to it on YouTube. It is a wonderfully uplifting song which I have sung as a solo many times.
> 
> Sherlock's recollection of the previous year with the Christmas crackers is taken from my story _Christmas in Sussex._ If you want to know the full story and haven't read that yet, I recommend you do so on my home site, fanfiction.net.
> 
> One chapter left to wrap things up, from Molly's POV.


	5. Family Christmas

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> With all issues resolved, the Holmes family enjoys their family Christmas.

As the Christmas meal commenced, Molly mashed various vegetables with which to feed Victoria, even as she ate her own meal. Victoria was adjusting quite well to eating solid mashed food, and even learning to hold a cup of water with a lid. She didn't eat a great deal, because she had just been fed, but she managed a few spoonfuls of the food.

Molly looked over at Sherlock and was pleased to see that he had returned to his normal self, completely at his ease. The agitation she had seen within him earlier had disappeared. In fact, he wasn't aware of it, but she had heard the conversation he had had with Mark through the baby monitor when they had gone upstairs to fetch Victoria. She was proud of her husband.

She recalled the conversation they had had on their honeymoon, when Sherlock had told her his former therapist had suggested he had Asperger's syndrome. Of course, he had been seeing the therapist after Mary's death, and the events at Sherrinford had not yet happened, so the woman did not have all the facts about Sherlock's past. It was true that Sherlock did exhibit some of those traits, but Molly felt quite certain, especially in light of the way Sherlock had changed over the past eighteen months, that he did not have the condition.

She had quietly done some research into it, and had discovered there was a spectrum to which Sherlock might potentially fit into with his characteristics, although even that would probably never be possible to determine due to his childhood trauma affecting his subsequent behaviour. The BAP, or Broad Autism Phenotype was used to identify people with certain traits of autism, but for whom those traits were not severe enough to be considered autistic.

Actually, Molly and Kayla had had several discussions about autism. As a nursery school teacher, Kayla had experience in dealing with children who had special needs, so Molly felt that she was now prepared to recognise any symptoms that might occur that could indicate Victoria or any subsequent children she were to have with Sherlock might have autism or BAP. For now though, Molly was not worried about the future, and Victoria certainly showed no signs of any developmental difficulties at this point. If anything, she seemed ahead of the general curve with her motor skills and awareness of things around her.

Following the dinner, Violet Holmes announced that they would wait until later for the Christmas pudding to be brought out, and Molly stood up to help take things out to the kitchen, asking Sherlock to take care of Victoria, so she could help her mother-in-law. Kayla and Elizabeth also stood and began to help clearing away the dirty dishes and remaining food.

As Molly headed into the kitchen, she heard William Holmes suggest that they bring out the Monopoly board for a game. Molly was not disappointed that she would not be participating. She still remembered the last time she had played the game, on her honeymoon. For some reason, she had felt ridiculously competitive and upset when Sherlock had won both of their games. It was embarrassing to think about, even now, the way she had cried about it like a child.

As the women worked together, Violet Holmes asked Molly quietly, "What was that all about earlier, with Sherlock? He appears to be fine now, but he seemed a little put out when you arrived this morning, and then of course he was obviously rather stunned, as we all were, by Mycroft's news."

Molly looked up from where she was bending down and stacking plates into the dishwasher, as her mother-in-law rinsed and handed them to her. She noted that Elizabeth and Kayla were quietly conversing as they transferred leftovers into containers for the fridge. "I'm afraid your son has been feeling a little neglected by his mother," she said with a quirk to her lips, then added hastily, "Believe me, I understand that having babies around can be very distracting, but my husband feels a bit like he has been supplanted in your affections by our daughter. I think the addition of another grandchild didn't help matters either."

Violet Holmes drew her brows together in a disconcerted manner. "Oh my, I had no idea he was feeling that way. Thank you for telling me, dear. I will try to remedy that situation when we return to the sitting room. My poor, dear boy!"

Molly could see that her mother-in-law was truly distressed, and she stood to offer the elderly woman a hug. "I already explained to him that it's a mother thing, to gravitate towards babies, and I think he understands a little better now anyway. But I know he will be happy to get a little attention from you."

Mrs. Holmes returned the hug, then stood back. "I must admit, I still feel somewhat responsible for the way Sherlock used to be, and the continuing difficulties he has had throughout his life. I know now it was a mistake to let him forget about his sister. I thank God for the steadying influence you have had on my son. I hope you know how much I appreciate you, and love you like a daughter."

There were tears in the older woman's eyes as she spoke the words, and Molly felt tears forming in her own eyes. Her mother-in-law had always been kind towards her, but this was the first time she had openly expressed affection for Molly, and it was wonderful to know that her mother-in-law cared so much for her as well.

"Thank you, Mummy," she responded, feeling it easier now to use the same term as Sherlock for his mother. "I love you, too."

Kayla and Elizabeth had still been talking quietly, and suddenly, a loud exclamation was heard from the dining room, even as Mycroft was heard to state in an exasperated tone, "How is it that you manage to always get Park Lane _and_ Mayfair, Sherlock?"

The women looked at each other and laughed. "That's one of the reasons we haven't played Monopoly for the last ten years or so," confided Mrs. Holmes. "Sherlock always seemed to win, which drove Mycroft crazy."

Molly couldn't help smirking. "I found that out to my detriment during our honeymoon, when he won both of the games we played."

Elizabeth raised an eyebrow at her. "You played Monopoly on your _honeymoon_?"

Molly blushed a little. "We even managed to play a few games of chess, when we weren't sight-seeing or doing...other things."

"As evidenced by that beautiful little granddaughter in the other room," said Violet homes with a broad wink at Molly, which made her blush again.

Kayla spoke up then, rubbing her abdomen. "Well I, for one, and looking forward to getting to know this little one in three months' time."

Violet Holmes looked at Kayla. "My goodness, I do apologise. You should not have been doing all this work in the kitchen in your condition."

Kayla grinned. "It was no trouble, and I have been enjoying getting to know Elizabeth better as well."

"Well, everything is done now, so let's go back into the sitting room and see how that Monopoly game is going," suggested the Holmes matriarch, and the four women left the kitchen.

Molly walked immediately over to Sherlock, placing her hands on his shoulders and resting her chin on his head. Victoria was on his lap, and she noticed their daughter was holding one of the unused Monopoly tokens, the thimble that Molly herself favoured.

"Sherlock," she chided, moving to stand beside him end extract the token from her daughter's chubby fingers. "If Victoria puts that in her mouth she might choke. I will go and get her teething ring."

Sherlock looked up at her, chagrined. "I'm sorry, Molly. I wasn't even thinking. She didn't try to put it in her mouth, I swear."

Molly just shook her head at him and rolled her eyes. She went to the changing bag and pulled out the teething ring, then a nappy and baby wipes. It was time for Victoria to be changed anyway; she had noticed an odour coming from her daughter. Sherlock had either not noticed it, or was pretending not to have realised his child had a dirty nappy, and she suspected it was the latter. To this day, Sherlock still avoided that chore as much as possible.

As the other women gathered around their respective spouses, save for Mrs. Holmes, who had undoubtedly remembered Molly's words about Sherlock feeling neglected, and was giving him a hug from behind, followed by an affectionate peck on the cheek, Molly went to the other room to change Victoria's nappy, so that she would not subject the family to the increasingly pervasive odour coming from her daughter.

She was just finishing up, when Kayla also entered the smaller sitting room, holding Rosie, who apparently also required changing.

Molly waited for her friend to change Rosie's significantly larger nappy. "Did Sherlock tell you that John has sold his share of his doctor's practice?" asked Kayla, glancing up at Molly, who was perched on a chair with Victoria on her lap.

"He sold his practice?" Molly raised her eyebrows in surprise. "When did this happen?"

"The sale only went through a couple weeks ago. Your brother-in-law discovered that Mary had a sizable amount of financial assets under her former name, and he has been working for many months to make sure that they would go to John," related her friend.

Molly's mouth dropped open in surprise. Here was another indication of her brother-in-law's generosity. "That's wonderful, but why did John decide to sell his part of the practice?"

Kayla didn't answer for a moment, completing the process of putting Rosie's dirty nappy into a plastic bag. Then she turned to look at Molly and smiled. "He wants to be available for Sherlock for any cases that might come up."

Molly stood and rested her daughter on her hip, even as Rosie stood and reached up towards the baby. "Baby Towia," she pronounced, beaming at the infant. She tickled Victoria's foot, and the baby giggled delightedly. Molly watched the interaction fondly, even is she realised what Kayla had said. John had sold his practice so that he could spend more time with Sherlock. She was very pleased, because she knew Sherlock had missed having his companion along on his cases in a consistent manner over the past couple of years.

"She rested her hand on Rosie's head, stroking the soft blonde curls, as she looked at Kayla. "I'm so happy to hear that. I'm sure Sherlock is excited about that. When did John tell him?"

"Just today," her friend responded, "when we arrived, and you and I were in the kitchen with your mother-in-law."

"In that case, I know why he didn't have the chance to tell me. With all the stuff that went on afterwards, it probably slipped his mind. When he went outside and I followed him, we weren't discussing that at all."

Kayla looked at her sympathetically. "I suppose it would've been a shock for him to discover Mycroft has a child of his own."

Molly flashed her a small smile. "It was, but he got over it, and he's making an effort to get to know his nephew. I'm really quite proud of him."

"As you should be," responded her friend, adding, as a smile played about her lips, "I heard what happened over the baby monitor too. He's a great guy, almost as great as my own."

At that moment Rosie turned to Kayla and tugged on her hand. "Come on Mama, wanna see Daddy."

"Okay, darling." Kayla gave her stepdaughter an affectionate smile and picked her up, leaving the room, as Molly followed with Victoria.

Molly was glad that Rosie looked at Kayla as if she were her mother. After all, Kayla was the only mother she knew. One day Rosie would have to be told about her real mother and the events which had led to her death. That was undoubtedly going to be a difficult time, and it would also affect the little girls relationship with her Uncle Sherlock, but with the help of two loving parents, Sherlock and herself, she was certain they would be able to explain things in a way that Rosie would not harbour resentment. That was at least several years in the future anyway.

Molly returned to stand beside Sherlock, who was just placing some houses on his Park Lane and Mayfair properties. She noticed he was using his favourite top hat token as well, as he rolled the dice and managed to land on the community chest space between Mycroft's house-laden properties of Bow Street and Marlborough Street.

She watched as one by one, tokens landed on Sherlock's properties and he accumulated more properties as players went bankrupt. Mycroft was the last to fall, and he finally conceded defeat, standing up abruptly and muttering, "I don't know how you do it, but I'm sure you are cheating, brother mine."

Molly had to hide her smile. It was nice to see she was not the only one who could be a sore loser.

The Monopoly board was put away as the Christmas pudding was brought out, and Sherlock set the brandy on fire as he had done the previous year. This time it was Molly's turn to assure a pregnant Kayla that the alcohol content would not affect the baby, because it had been burned off.

As the evening progressed, the adults chatted, and the two little girls were passed from person to person. It was a lovely evening, but by the end of it, Molly was quite tired as she headed up to bed with Sherlock and Victoria.

Victoria was in her sleepsuit, ready for one last feeding before sleep, and Molly settled herself on the bed with a pillow under her arm and put the baby to her breast. As she fed Victoria, she and Sherlock spoke about the day and its events, Mark in particular, and also the new situation with John.

Victoria was getting sleepy when Molly transferred her to her other breast, and within a few minutes had fallen asleep. As usual, Sherlock had been watching in fascination. Even after all these months, Molly knew he enjoyed watching her feed the baby. He gently extracted Victoria from Molly's arms, put her up to his shoulder and extracted a sleepy little burp, after which he took her over to the cot, placing her gently into it. The baby made a slight noise but did not wake. Quite often, she did have a tendency to wake immediately upon being put in her cot, but on this occasion, as it had been a long day, she was obviously ready for sleep herself.

Sherlock turned down the covers of the bed and slipped off his boxers, giving Molly an expectant look.

Molly grinned at her husband, and removed all her clothes save for her bra, then settled into the bed beside him. Sherlock always complained about her wearing it to bed, but she knew if she didn't, one cry from Victoria would have her leaking.

Tonight though, he frowned at her. "Bra off," he demanded, reaching to unclasp the bra. "I'd like to have your breasts to myself for one night."

Molly pursed her lips at him. "If I leak, you're going to have to clean up the mess," she told him.

Sherlock shrugged. "I've done it before," he responded easily, and indeed, he had done so more than once.

Having successfully unfastened the bra, Sherlock tossed it to the side of the bed, then gathered Molly into his arms. "It's so much better being skin to skin like this," he murmured, before his mouth descended on hers.

Molly wound her arms around his neck and returned the embrace, kissing him ardently. Their second Christmas as husband and wife had certainly been different than the previous one, but no less special, in its own way. Molly knew that every Christmas would always contain that same wonder, because she was now loved by Sherlock as passionately as she loved him.

Sherlock's hands and mouth moved confidently along the curves and contours of her body, eliciting those gasps of pleasure she couldn't prevent herself from uttering, although she tried to keep them to a minimum, aware of the fact that their daughter was sleeping close by. But he loved her so well, and so fully, that, as often happened, tears sprang to her eyes after they reached the heights of ecstasy and lay entwined together afterwards.

As the grandfather clock downstairs chimed the twelve deep gongs that pronounced it to be midnight, Molly and Sherlock joined their baby in peaceful slumber.

And as they slept, little did they know how different again the following Christmas would be, when they would welcome their next blessing from God, in the form of a new addition to their family, and three would become four.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed the conclusion to this story.
> 
> There are references in this final chapter to two of my other stories which are not on this site - _Christmas in Sussex_ and _A Honeymoon Journey._ If you like my writing enough that you are interested in the full immersive experience of my characters, you can find them on FanFiction.Net. 
> 
> When you comment on a story, you are leaving a "tip" for the author, who receives no other compensation for their hard work. Please be kind and support the work of the authors you enjoy reading.

**Author's Note:**

> Well, dear reader, what do you think of this unexpected turn of events? I must admit, I felt sad that pairing Mycroft with Lady Smallwood closed the door on him having children of his own, or any cousins for Sherlock and Molly's child(ren). So, I thought - why could he not have been a bit careless in his youth and gotten a woman pregnant without knowing it? I wanted to create something that would be feasible, so I used the real tragedy of Princess Diana's death as the setting, and found a reason why he would not be told about the baby. 
> 
> Are you intrigued with this turn of events? I do hope I am writing something that has not been done before.
> 
> Oh, and don't worry, the next chapter is all about Sherlock and Molly, so if you want to read more about what happens, make sure you post a comment on it. I'm quite prepared to just delete the story if people aren't interested in it.


End file.
